Why the Philippine 'Punisher' could be president

In a parched field in northern Philippines, a helicopter hovers over a sea of people.

Defying hunger and a three-hour wait, teenagers and grown men scream to welcome the mayor of a city a thousand miles away. Out emerges the man raising the symbol of his unorthodox presidential candidacy: an iron fist.

Priest Amado Picardal shakes his head. The former spokesperson of Davao's Coalition Against Summary Execution told Al Jazeera that from 1998 to 2015, the death squad killed 1,424, of whom 132 were minors.

"This is mass murder," Picardal said. "Extrajudicial killings are the centrepiece of Duterte's anti-crime drive. Some say it's just bravado but the bodies I've seen are not hyperbole. I met mothers who lost sons."

One such mother is Clarita Alia. A feisty woman who eked out a living selling vegetables in a crime-infested market, she is the face of death-squad victims.

She blames Duterte for the successive murders of her four sons aged 14 to 18.

"My sons were accused of sniffing Rugby [sniffing glue] and stealing cellphones but I made them undergo rehab. Why were they killed? It's not true when he says Davao is peaceful because criminals are gone. How about those killers? Aren't they criminals, too?"

A mother's sobs are drowned out by chants of Duterte's name on the campaign trail.

A survey by the renowned Ateneo de Davao University shows that more than half of residents think the death squad is "OK", while 98 percent are satisfied with the mayor. Nationwide polls depict Duterte as the candidate who can solve criminality, corruption and illegal drugs.

From celebrities, taxi drivers and migrant workers, spontaneous support fuels the bid of the only local politician running a national campaign without machinery. Why?

Chito Gascon, head of the human rights commission, said Duterte's vow to strike fear of the law in criminals attracts Filipinos fed up with slow justice and weak law enforcement.

He cites as an example the still-unresolved 2009 massacre of 58 people, the Philippines' worst election-related violence.

"Impunity creates a raw nerve in the public psyche. There's a sense of injustice. Everyone gets away with murder. To some, the solution is to cut corners. But it's counterintuitive to solve injustice by perpetuating more injustice."

Duterte retorts: File the case.

The irony is that the very impunity the mayor rails against allows him to vie for power.

Carlos Conde, Philippines researcher for the New York-based Human Rights Watch, said the government lacks resolve to prosecute Duterte.

"His ascent is one of those rare occurrences where a politician of national stature unapologetically erodes human rights," said Conde, a former journalist who tracked the death squad. "He's the parasite feeding into the broken criminal justice system, making political capital out of it."

Peace mediator?

Not all activists see Duterte as a murderer. Some are his staunchest defenders. The man who loathes criminals sympathises with revolutionaries, believing that "you cannot kill an idea".

Duterte presents himself as the best bet to end one of Asia's longest-running communist insurgencies, and to revive a stalled peace process with Muslim rebels.

He proposes changing the unitary government into a federal system to develop neglected regions.

A shrewd politico, the mayor allied with people of all political stripes to lead a diverse city of Christians, Muslims and indigenous people. He climbs mountains to mediate with Maoist rebels, and designates deputies for Muslim representation.

Jesus Dureza, former presidential peace adviser, believes his schoolmate will fast-track talks crucial to stop the spread of terrorism in the southern Philippines.

"He has a deep understanding of cultural and religious nuances. He is quick to comprehend what to do in a crisis situation," Dureza said.

This inclusive approach draws marginalised sectors to Duterte. In an oddity, leading his campaign is a former rebel priest.

"It is only Duterte who has a constituency that is a microcosm of society," said Jun Evasco.

"He always sides with the oppressed. People long for a strongman with a heart, not somebody with no empathy for poor people."

'Hijacked revolution'

President Aquino led the Philippines to become one of Asia's fastest-growing economies.

The son of democracy icons might see Duterte take his place, with Marcos scion Ferdinand Jr as vice president, based on the latest polls.

Walden Bello, a Philippine sociologist and a former congressman, says the uncanny scenario has to do with the outcome of the 1986 EDSA revolution which toppled the elder Marcos, and installed Aquino's mother in power.

"Duterte embodies frustration with the institutions of the EDSA system," he says.

"There is a strong perception that politics has been hijacked by the elites. There's been no major structural change."

While Aquino touts credit rating upgrades, one out of four Filipinos still lives in poverty.

Dynasties make up two-thirds of Congress. Commuters endure traffic jams and train breakdowns.

With a slogan of "real change", Duterte is the protest choice, spawn of an oligarchy shocked by his surge.

In a nation where the candidate with the best narrative wins elections, Duterte's rants against an elite establishment form a powerful message. But his disregard for rights and processes is one the Philippines has heard before.

"People want a strong leader but don't understand that a strong leader concentrates power," said Gascon, the rights body chairman.

"We had a strong leader in Marcos. He said he was going to make the country great again, free it from corruption and violence. That didn't happen. It just manifested itself in new forms."

After a string of traditional politicians, Duterte calls himself the last card. Whether he's an ace or a joker, the future of Philippine democracy is at stake in the gamble.

Ayee Macaraig is a journalist based in Manila, Philippines, covering politics and governance in Southeast Asia.